Magazine Posts

The blanket of wet leaves
lying upon the cold ground,
will nourish all the new growth
that will soon abound.

I am amazed at the tenacity of this plant.
Under the kitchen window, next to the siding.

Moved these under the kitchen window,
Close to the house, for protection.
They have survived Frost
And they still hang on

The height of a persons futility
is trying to argue with stupidity.

A hanging element,
passage to the Stars,
on our adventure,
a trip to Mars.
A lifetime's journey,
for a trip so long.
A lonely memory
enshrined in song.
A golden history
for all to see.
Your sacrifices,
will always be,
one so heroic,
in our modern time,
a historic honor,
so very divine.
What is this?
The rambling text
is life's happening
and what is next.
Time travel will be
that moment in time
when I return to thee.

My knees are weak.
My skin does sag.
I'm starting to look
Like a misshapen bag.
The aging process
Is so very grand,
That exercise is needed
Now, on demand.

My thoughts do ramble so
and words are stop or go,
as I write as quick as I can;
Not from fear but rather than
to let out feelings, deep inside.
Some that I won't hide
away from friends and family
but to stay as close as I can be.

No more will I hear
that cry in the night.
No more the pain,
no more the plight,
for time has passed,
as it usually will do.
I long, once more to hear
the sound of your voice,
when you talk to me,
of our dreams on this road to eternity.
Don't go from me.
Don't leave me alone.
Please my dear love,
please stay at home.

I remember back to the olden days,
laying on the floor, behind the kitchen stove.
On linoleum, metal, no asbestos
to protect the floor from the
excess heat.
Smells of apple pies, in the wood fired oven.
Those days of so long ago, are gone.
So here we are now, along
with all the good thoughts that
we recall.
Fortunately, for me, it's the good
thoughts that I remember, not the bad,
not the memories that make me sad.
Knowing that we won't
come this way again.

I knew lonely times,
when evening came
and daylight, washed away.
Sadness was a friend of mine,
when cities, dark and grey,
turned their backs, on my loneliness.

Rising up, in early light
with bits of joy and sorrow,
as days go by
and nights do pass,
into a new tomorrow
and so it is, as days go by,
as nights go yon and hither,
while age descends,
upon our minds
and flesh begins to wither.

Under the water, beneath the Sea
the blackness is calling; it's calling me.
Return to the place where we came from.
Return to life's creative outcome.
The smell of the Sea, the splash of the waves,
is where I belong, not here in a cave,
for of all the wonders, in this great life,
there's no none as loved as my sweet wife.
My thoughts are a shamble of uncertainty,
for I must go now and return to the Sea.